


Fall Back

by acciomalfoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bottom Draco, Eating Disorder, Enemies With Benefits, M/M, Self Harm, Smut, eight year AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:09:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4022782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acciomalfoy/pseuds/acciomalfoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was only when Draco Malfoy was nine years old that his mother stroked his hair, a serene expression worn by her, and whispered that he must never let anyone, apart from Mummy, get too close to him, lest somebody hurt him. Draco nodded. </p><p>That little blond boy never did keep promises well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. La Petite Mort

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Harry Potter book and film series/franchise belong exclusively to J.K Rowling and Warner Bros.  
> Pairings in this chapter: Draco/Harry, Ginny/Harry, Hermione/Ron

“Potter!” Draco’s voice was shaking, his composure long abandoned in his sordid ecstasy, clinging to his sworn enemy. If Draco had been the slightest bit more frantic, he would have drawn blood as his fingernails raked Potter’s sweat-drenched back.

“Fuck, Pott-.” He moaned as Potter’s cock slammed into him in such a way that was _so fucking perfect_. Draco wrapped his legs tightly around Potter’s waist, forcing him in deeper, and Potter knocked him back into the wall.

“You’re s-so – tight,” Potter muttered, his forehead almost resting on Draco’s shoulder. His hand slid in between their bodies to grab clumsily at Draco’s cock, giving Draco the all-round sensation he lusted for, as sloppy as Potter’s attempts were. Draco climaxed with a shudder not long after, biting down on his lip enough to break the delicate skin; he spasmed and spurted into Potter’s hand, and onto both of their naked chests.

He allowed Potter to reach his own orgasm, wincing all the while as Potter pushed on. Still sensitive after coming, and  _definitely_  still sensitive to someone rutting into his prostate, he detangled himself from Potter, deigning to compose himself, inside and out. He always felt queer after their affairs, passive – Potter pulled slowly out of him, causing him to flinch.

They dressed silently, their backs turned to the other, in an almost sagacious, civil manner, as if they had not just shagged roughly against a wall whilst their teachers were most likely going spare, despairing over where their infamous students were. Draco muttered a familiar incantation to himself, flicking his wand tiredly, and faintly heard Potter do the same. A few spells and inward shivers later, the two were presentable. At least, they looked as they had prior to fucking.

“Thursday. 7 O’clock.”

“I have Quidditch against Ravenclaw,” Draco said dryly, noting Potter’s impatient expression. He knew the brunette didn’t fancy having to schedule, and he suspected it was due to the nature of their relationship - if one could call their arrangement such a thing- ensuring Potter’s blunt discomfort whenever they had to speak, rather than just shag, or behave as enemies would, and  _should_.

“Right; I’ll work out another day, and I’ll let you know then.” Potter nodded at his own words, and Draco picked up his bag, flinging it around one shoulder.

“Fine.”

Neither spoke from that point on. Draco left the classroom precisely five minutes before Potter. 

 

oOo

 

“Harry.” Harry looked up at the greeting, immediately recognising his girlfriend’s patient tone. He smiled at her and she sat next to him on the couch, peering over his shoulder to see what he was doing - potions homework. Ginny curled her toes, knowing how much he loathed the subject yet had to study hard for it anyway, as he was determined to be an auror later in life.

“Could I help?” she asked casually, though she was still in the year below. Not that long ago, the Ministry declared it to be compulsory for all seventh year students of 1998 to return to Hogwarts to complete their education, establishing a new eighth year.

Harry shook his head, wrinkling his nose as he noticed the silence surrounding them. The Gryffindor common room was empty; an unusual instance. He set aside his parchment and quill, turning to Ginny.

“Where are the others, then?” he questioned, knowing she would know whom he was talking about. She shrugged.

“Hermione’s in class, as are Neville and Luna,” she said. “Ron, Seamus, Dean…well, a lot of the others should have a free period right now. I don’t know where  _they_  are, actually.” Harry sighed, knowing he had to begin his Herbology project with Ron.

“Never mind, then.” He leant forward, putting his homework on the coffee table; he would complete the essay later – he had until the next day, after all. For now, he decided to spare his time and attention for Ginny, who he had barely seen over the last few weeks.

_Or been faithful to, though that really has been over the past year or so, hasn’t it, Harry?_

Harry dismissed his guilt-ridden conscience, adamant on not dwelling on his meetings with Malfoy, least of all whilst in the presence of his girlfriend. He smiled again.

“So, what do you wanna do?” he asked earnestly, and she grinned, taking his hand, and jumping up to lead them away from the common room.

It was going to be a long afternoon, and Harry very much expected he never  _would_  get that essay done.

 

oOo

 

Draco found it difficult not to seek out Potter in the main hall every time he and his housemates came to eat. He always had, and now Draco could never distinguish between the two possible reasons for it; be it that he simply wanted to bother his enemy, as it used to be, or attract his attention. Draco would try to ponder on it but it was hard to focus, especially when they were in lip-lock or Potter’s fingers were stroking certain places that made Draco scream and twist and –

Not important and definitely not up for musing when he was eating breakfast with Pansy on his left and Blaise on his right. Draco absentmindedly listened to the conversation, finding Nott, sat across from him, was telling of his latest endeavours with Marietta Edgecombe, the Ravenclaw girl in the year below that he had been attempting to woo. Draco sighed; Nott’s perverse inclination towards a fifteen year old girl wasn’t the most fascinating of topics.

He eventually betrayed himself, casting his grey eyes over to Potter. He regretted his decision instantly. It was not that Potter saw him looking; it was moreover that Potter  _wasn’t_. His right arm was draped around the Weaselette’s shoulder, and Draco’s throat clenched as he gathered Potter was feeding her an apricot. 

Scowling, he pictured her flailing as a shot of green light shot towards her. No, that was too good for her; too quick, painless. Instead, he thought of an extremely sharp knife being forced down her throat, slicing down the tongue the bitch used so much, rather than biting into the succulent fruit Potter was pressing to her lips.

“Draco, what’s wrong?” Pansy simpered, and Draco’s scowl dropped as he tried to regain his composure.

“Nothing; I’m just tired,” he answered, meeting Pansy’s eyes. The girl doted over him, bluntly, despite already having obtained the position of Draco’s best friend. It would be nothing bothersome to have her replaced with someone less needy, yet, on the other hand, she never openly doubted Draco’s hate towards Harry and that was really all he required in a companion.

He looked back down at the table, resting his right cheek on the inside of his palm as he sighed, disregarding his meal. He hadn’t had much of an appetite since sixth year, the reasons of which were unpleasant; nothing he wished to speak or even think about.

Draco hardly even had a reason for agreeing to the deal, on the other hand. He simply couldn’t justify his decisions when he donned a limp in his step on the way to lessons, just as he couldn’t when he ditched lessons altogether, neglecting his classes to lie rigidly on his bed, staring up at the roof of his bed, a hand to his abdomen.

He had learnt not to refuse Potter – not that Potter would force him, exactly, but it wasn’t worth the awkward conversation after as they hesitated over how to behave – as enemies, or...whatever the other side of their relationship was, and however that entitled them to act. So, he gladly submitted to Potter when the situation called for it.

And, in retaliation, it was all he could do not to launch a series of hexes and damning jinxes upon Potter when he so much as  _looked_  at him after particularly rough shags.

If he was being honest, it didn’t  _matter_  why he kept coming back, kept letting Potter use him – it mattered why he had agreed in the first place. He had been a  _virgin_  - of course he had, purebloods were, as depicted in the name, meant to be pure. The sex was good, deliriously good, but how would he have been one to know before Potter? He had no legitimate reason as to why he accepted Potter’s proposition, with barely any qualms about his or Potter’s sexuality, Potter’s girlfriend, his background – the list went on.

He didn’t even want to  _think_  about Potter’s own reasons, because even if Potter’s opinion  _did_  mean less than a mudblood’s to him, he didn’t appreciate being reckoned as nothing more than a whore; a down and dirty shag.

Most of all, he definitely didn’t want to think about what would happen to him if the truth ever came out. His deal with Potter would be off – and that unsettled him for the same unknown reasons he kept the deal – and he would be hated by everyone, more than he already was. He would be a disappointment to the already precarious Malfoy and Black name, and all he considered to be his friends would desert him without a second thought. It wasn’t ideal, to say the least of his feelings about it all.

He didn’t even know why he was thinking about it again. He  _shouldn’t_ be. But, he never  _had_  been able to get Potter out of his head, and ever since the deal begun, he began to realise just how incriminating that was. It scared him.

 

oOo

 

Harry looked over Malfoy as he rose, and walked with a certain invisible declaration of grace and finesse, finding his way to the front of the classroom. Pause.

“ _Celus animus_ ,” Malfoy murmured, and flicked his wrist, eyes trained on Harry. The illusion of a Snake appeared, slithering on the floor towards Harry. He clenched his teeth. One, two – the snake poised itself to strike – three. It dissolved into thin air.

“Very good, Mr Malfoy; if you would take your seat.” Malfoy smirked and sat back down. Harry stared at the back of his platinum-haired head.

“Yes, indeed, this spell can enable the caster to conjure any creature they deem appropriate, typically in the case of a duel, to unsettle or injure the opponent, for a duration of three seconds…”

 _Why a snake?_  Harry wondered, looking down at the textbook now. Was it because that was Draco’s favourite animal? Because he wanted to remind everyone he was in Slytherin? Because he wanted to scare Harry? Harry sighed, turning to the right page, and glanced towards Ron for a moment. It was then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a set of silver eyes on him, watching silently.

 

oOo

 

Ginny sat on her bed, alone in the dorm. She found herself wishing she could be beside Harry and the others, since, after all, the girls in her year were none the friend to her. She pulled her top on, only having taken a shower, long, darkened hair swept to one side, wetting her shoulder. 

She got up, going to head to the common room, when someone came in instead. Luna. The blonde opened the door, and Ginny realised that had been the knocking sound she had heard earlier, and dismissed. She stretched, going back to her bed, now she had company.

“Hey.” She smiled, and Luna shut the door behind her, giving her a soft smile, too.

“Hello, Ginny. I was wondering if you wanted to talk.” Luna told her, her fingertips having left the door handle, coming forward. Ginny liked Luna; she really did, now that she had been her friend for what felt like a long time. Luna was dependable, she was there for her, for everyone, and she was just - she really did like her, indeed.

“Yeah, I guess.” Ginny shuffled. “Come sit.”

 

oOo 

 

Harry walked into the common room, sighing at the gasps as he summoned a towel and wrung out his hair with it. Hermione approached, arms folded, as everyone went back to their conversations and activities – if Harry didn’t say anything about it, there was no need for them to say anything, either.

That didn’t apply to his best friends, however.

“What happened?” she asked, eyebrows furrowing as she looked over Harry. “You’re going to catch something,” she said matter-of-factly, and dropped her arms to the sides, leading him over closer to the fire.

“Who else would? Malfoy, of course,” he muttered, sitting down, and messing further with his hair. Hermione shook her head, breathing out, exasperated.

“He should be expelled. Honestly. I know he can’t be punished for his involvement with the war – since he was underage and all – but this is just  _stupid_. He shouldn’t still be messing with you, not since you vouched for him at his trial,” She spoke strongly, and Harry couldn’t help disagreeing in his mind. He deserved it.

“Yeah, well, I’m not going to tell on him or anything,” He answered, and gulped. “It was only an Aguamenti. It was more just to annoy me, than anything.”

It sounded almost as if he was defending Malfoy. Then again, he was. A bit.

“Well, I think you need to sort something out. He’s evil; we all know that, but next year we’re leaving school, after all. I just think you need to put the past behind you. Otherwise, how will there ever be peace in the Wizarding world, if there is still tension between ex death eaters and the rest of us?”

Hermione shrugged, and leaned back on the armchair, picking up a book of some title.  She raised an eyebrow, and the book covered her face as she read it, adding, “His parents are both in Azkaban, and it’s safe to say nobody reckons his position anymore. But, still, it’ll be a statement if we forged a truce between you and Malfoy, wouldn’t it?”

Harry nodded, and after exchanging a few more words, went up to his dorm, just about ready to sleep.

 

oOo

 

_Harry glanced over to Malfoy in the centre of the room – he knew how it felt to be sitting in that chair; in the centre of the court, to be judged by everyone. It was even worse for Malfoy, he guessed, there were less people willing to vouch for him, and slightly more people there in total._

_Malfoy’s head was bowed, his hands in his lap. Blond strands fell into his eyes, and Harry noticed he didn’t make a move to push them back._

_“Harry Potter, please approach the stand.” Harry blinked, and feeling Hermione squeeze his hand, stood up, glancing at the members of the order, as he walked from his seat, standing before the court._

_“You are here to testify for Draco Lucius Malfoy’s…” So, that was his middle name. “…exclusion from the traditional sentence as declared by Kingsley Shacklebolt himself, for..."_

_Malfoy had committed a lot of crimes, some of which Harry had never even considered to_ be _crimes. Yet a lot, particularly the most brutal acts, were already discounted, due to acknowledgement of the serious threats, unspeakables and all, Malfoy faced as he was made to torture many muggles and muggleborns. "...correct?”_

_Harry nodded, and looked back at Malfoy, who was still tense, maintaining his position._

_“State your defence.” Harry swallowed, and met Hermione’s eyes across the room. Alright then._

_“I have reasons to believe he didn’t take the mark willingly, and that without him, we wouldn’t have succeeded in the war.”_

_“And why is that?”_

  _An hour or so later, Harry had recounted all that had happened in the girl’s bathroom, and in Malfoy Manor, and answered, truthfully, any other questions aimed at him. Finally, he was granted permission to leave, and he waited by the door as Hermione approached Malfoy, whispering something in his ear. She came back to him, and Harry opened his mouth, but she shook her head, and the two left the court room._  

 _A few weeks later, he received the news that Malfoy was deemed innocent, and was to be under the care and guidance of Mr and Mrs Zabini until he finished education at Hogwarts. Along the notification, came the note bearing the words ‘Thank you’._  

_That was all he heard or saw from Draco Malfoy until eighth year began._

 

oOo 

 

“Can’t sleep?” Harry shot up from his position, looking around in the dark. Finally, his eyes adjusted and captured the image of Seamus’ form, cross-legged and looking right at him.

“Not really, no,” he answered, looking out the window. Nightmares had plagued him ever since the war. Even before that. He heard a shuffle, as if somebody was shifting in their bed, trying to get comfortable.

“Same for me,” Seamus paused, turning on his side. “Do you ever worry about leaving Hogwarts? About what you’re gonna do?” he asked, and Harry swallowed.

“All the time.” He settled back down, staring at his hands illuminated by the moonlight. It was hard, having so many expectations put upon him. He knew how his life would go, already – he was going to marry Ginny, start a family – all of that.

“Same for me,” Seamus repeated, and silence fell upon them. Harry fell asleep first.

 

oOo

  

 _“You – you want to-" Malfoy stammered as he gripped onto the edge of the desk, knuckles protruding, hands deathly white. Harry rolled his eyes, unbuttoning the Slytherin’s shirt._  

_“You didn’t think we would be dry-humping forever, did you? Lift your arms up.” Malfoy obliged and Harry cast away his shirt, flicking at and pinching Malfoy’s nipples as they erected – as did other things between them._

_He ran his hands curiously over Malfoy’s chest, ignoring the thin, long scars that he knew all too well of – or more specifically, their origins. Malfoy was_ trembling _, actually trembling._  

 _“No, I expected we would do more,” Malfoy shot back indignantly, yet his voice held no real bitterness “But, Potter –,” he paused as Harry unzipped and unbuttoned his trousers. Shit. Malfoy swallowed, and in a flash, grabbed Harry’s wrists, restraining him in that position, Harry’s hands resting on his thighs._

_Malfoy swallowed, before speaking with his eyes averted. “I’m a virgin, alright?” he spat out._

_“Just stop worrying, Malfoy.” Malfoy’s eyes flickered back to him, and for a minute, there was silence, before Malfoy went and kissed him._

 

oOo

 

“Fuck!” Draco panted as he fell back on the desk, heart beating quickly, or perhaps it was slowing, but he wasn’t paying all too much attention. After a few moments of near silence, he sat up, and saw Potter had already begun dressing. Giving his due, he pulled on his own clothes and Potter watched him, as if that was the normal occurrence.

“What?” he asked bitterly, buttoning his shirt. Harry’s face was creased with lines, hardened. He straightened up, pulling on his tie, and Harry spoke, calmly.

“Get a date for the dance. It’s suspicious – you’re not dating anyone.”

“Have you ever considered the fact I don’t give a fuck?”

“Malfoy.”

“Potter.”

“Do it.”

“Why?”

“Just fucking do it, Malfoy.”

“Alright, fine. I suppose there’s no reason for me to implore you to ask freckleface.”

“She has a name.”

“Funny how you knew who I was talking about, despite the fact I’ve never given her that particular nickname before.”

“Who else would you be talking about? She’s my girlfriend.”

“And you’re the perfect boyfriend, I so believe.”

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

And with that, Harry left the room.

 

 oOo

  

“I hope you all have revised thoroughly for this exam.” Professor McGonagall spoke as she passed along the papers to the students in the hall. “I know you are all anxious over the upcoming practical yet…”

Harry caught sight of Malfoy a few rows in front of him, looking to be staring out of the window. He tuned out Professor McGonagall as he thought of their encounter only two hours ago. Sometimes, he figured that he might have been too rough, that he should be gentler next time, when he saw Malfoy making his way into class on the days they had shagged. The effects were obvious to those who knew the activities Malfoy, and he, partook in. He shook his head, looking down at the paper. He didn’t, and shouldn’t, care for the likes of Draco Malfoy.

It wasn’t that Harry was heartless, or particularly selfish. It was that he had been the opposite of these things, and for so long. He gave and gave and gave - all because of his famous “feat” against Voldemort as a mere baby. He watched so many people he knew die and it left him with little more than a few sleepless nights, hidden tears, hoarse rants, and the overpowering, sickening guilt.

Guilt was an emotion he had come to think of as his familiar, an emotion that almost took a form in his consciousness. He felt it, whatever was said, whatever was done. It didn’t matter if he had caused it, and it didn’t matter if he was consoled and reassured.

He felt it when he fucked Malfoy into a wall, or into a desk, or sometimes, on the floor. He felt it when he kissed Ginny, and held her hand, and returned her smiles. He felt it when he met Malfoy’s eyes, and he had to look away – because he wasn’t just hurting Ginny, no matter how he looked at it and even Malfoy deserved some regret on Harry’s behalf.

He’d accepted the encapsulation of guilt within every single event that involved him before the deal even started, and so he hadn’t really paused to think the first time he shoved Malfoy into something – Merlin, he didn’t even know what the object  _was_  that he knocked the blond into – and snogged him, and gone further with his enemy than he had with the woman he was in love with.

Harry sometimes didn’t know why he did it; maybe because if he was going to feel like this, then he might as well receive some pleasure out of it.

Or, perhaps, because of how Harry felt after all he had done, all he had gone through – he very well deserved the experience of shagging Malfoy and dating the perfect girl.

The repercussions could be coped with when they came, he maintained, and so he didn’t come clean to Ginny, and he didn’t end it with Malfoy. Even if Ginny sometimes had this ambiguous look in her eyes that made him doubt her ignorance to the affair he was having with Malfoy, and even if he chanced sighting Malfoy glaring at Ginny each morning.

He began the test.

 

oOo 

 

Draco stared at the doorframe then set his jaw, knocking on it. Within seconds, the door opened and Pansy appeared half-dressed in her uniform, her jumper not yet put on.

“Draco?”

“Do you want to go with me to the dance?” He asked with a hint of a playful smirk on his lips. “If you’re not already taken, that is.”

She blinked, and slowly smirked back at him.

“I’ll go with you. See you at breakfast, Draco.” She winked, and Draco nodded, turning to leave, as the door closed behind him.

He kept his head up, though he wanted nothing more to sink into the ground, and started the walk back to the Slytherin dormitory. At least he had made  _Potter_  happy.

It wasn’t that Pansy was unattractive, or that he had a particular disinterest in going to the dance, it was only – how could anyone be unaffected by being shagged by Potter as often as he was?

He had to end it. He  _had_  to, before he became one of those stupid, dreaded _fangirls_  who  _obsessed_  over Potter. But, even if he did, and could, he supposed, it was becoming too late.

 

oOo

 

 “Can you believe we only have one term left before we graduate?” Luna commented, slipping into her seat and smiling at Neville next to her. He picked at his drumstick.

“It does seem rather sudden, doesn’t it?” Ginny sighed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do when you all leave. I’ll be alone here.” Harry shook his head, kissing her cheek.

“We’ll write lots. There’s no forgetting you.” He smiled then paused. “Not when you know hexes like that.” Ginny swatted his arm, and the small group laughed.

“The dance is tomorrow,” Hermione mentioned, and Ron nodded, looking up. “Ron and I will be going together, for the first time.” She smiled brilliantly, and Harry breathed out, rolling his eyes, but smiling.

“Harry’s taking me.” Ginny smiled, and explaining, “We convinced Professor McGonagall to let me attend.”

She rested her head on Harry’s shoulder, done with eating. Harry nodded, and conversation resumed as he tuned them out, finding only focus in a pair of eyes across the hall, meeting his own gaze. Malfoy looked away first.

 

oOo 

 

Draco snapped open his eyes, and surveyed his reflection in the mirror positioned in front of him. He breathed out, letting his hands fall to his lap, his legs crossed. The sink bore his weight, the sides of the sink digging into his bare ankles in such a way that it brought discomfort to him.

He blinked, and looked over his bare body in the mirror, his hands shaking as he clasped them.  _So fucking hot_ , Potter had groaned once, quite recently. He bit into his lip, and his eyes narrowed as he scrutinised his own appearance. He resisted the urge to gel back his hair – letting his fringe fall free onto his forehead and into his eyes. What did it matter? He wasn’t going anywhere tonight.

His eyes slowly cast down the mirror, observing each aspect of himself. Grey-blue eyes glared back at him, highlighted by ash, arched eyebrows, meeting with the slope of his nose... His eyelashes weren’t particularly short, but no longer than average. He sighed, and released his bottom lip from his lateral incisor. His lips were small, but at least they were soft, and had a natural cupid’s bow. He traced his lips with his thumb, before remembering himself, dropping his hand.

He swallowed, and noted the way his throat contracted, his Adam’s apple bobbing with it. It was too prominent. He let his hands guide the way now, smooth fingertips dancing across porcelain flesh, lingering on every patch of skin as he stared at it. He outlined his collarbones with one long finger, exhaling. They jutted out.

Draco spent an hour, or possibly longer, like that, running over his body, commenting on it in his mind – and then the mirror smashed, and footsteps lead out of the bathroom.

He was no match to Ginevra Weasley. He wasn’t good enough.

 

oOo 

 

_It was 8:54 when Draco Malfoy saw Harry Potter walk in._

_It was 8:54 when he was unable to do much else than stare at him._

_It was 9:20 when Pansy Parkinson left him._

_It was 9:50 when Blaise Zabini offered Draco Firewhiskey._

_It was 9:59 when Draco spilt the remainder of his drink on Ginny Weasley._

_It was 10:01 when Ginny punched him._

_It was 10:03 when Draco called her a bitch._

_It was 10:04 when Draco told Harry he kissed well._

_It was 10:04 when everyone nearby, including Ginny, heard that._

_It was 10:06 when he left the hall, leaving a pissed Ginny to shout after him._

_It was 10:06 when Harry followed after him._

 

oOo 

 

Harry shoved Malfoy into a wall, and both felt adrenaline rush through them. Hearts hammering, eyes widened, pupils blown, hitched breathing. Harry punched Malfoy, and the Slytherin whimpered, hands flying to his face as blood flooded from his nostrils.

“What the hell was that?” Harry yelled, glaring at him. Malfoy looked to be a sorry sight and Harry felt a drop of pity mingle with anger and – guilt. How could he have let this go on for so long, to have let this happen? He should have known feelings would always complicate relationships, even if they were instated for the purpose of  _sex_.

He wasn’t sure whom he felt more guilty about hurting – Malfoy, Ginny, or himself, when the world picked him apart for what he had done.

He couldn't let the world pick him apart for what he had done.

Harry listened to Malfoy’s breathy gasps of air and sobs, unable to tune them out. Malfoy hadn’t replied. He finally drew his eyes up to stare at the blond.

“I hate you, you know. I’ve always hated you. If you – if you thought what we did meant  _anything_  to _me_ , you’re wrong.” He didn’t hate Malfoy – he hadn’t hated him for a while. But he had to say it, had to cut all ties. Malfoy didn’t reply, again, and Harry studied him as his eyes fluttered closed, sinking down the wall, curling into a ball. Harry exhaled, and made to leave.

“I’m in love with you.” It was said almost defiantly, as if to be a last insult to Harry. Harry could almost imagine a sneer accompanying it, as he left the corridor. He went back out to the hall, where the explaining began.

Harry hated himself more than anything.

 

oOo 

 

At 12 O’Clock, Draco cast the curse, which could only be associated with the most satire, and thus the greatest, of dark magic.

He didn’t rather regret it, at all.


	2. Il Me Dit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairings in this chapter: Draco/Harry, Ginny/Harry, Blaise/Draco, Narcissa/Lucius, teeny bit of Luna/Ginny

It had always been non-negotiable that Potter topped; that he stole full dominance over each and every situation they found themselves in that didn’t concern insults and glares. Draco had never refused this, subdued the very moment Potter even  _glanced_  at his cock or arse. In a sickening way, he belonged to Potter.

Though, perhaps not anymore - definitely not anymore - after what he had done. Draco stashed his hawthorn wand beneath his pillow and lay down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling for a few minutes. His breathing was heavy, remarkably so, as if he had been running miles.

Potter had started it, Draco reasoned with himself. He let his eyes flutter shit, his teeth digging into the pink flesh of his bottom lip, as his hand slid under his buttoned shirt, seeking out his nipples, and skimming across the scarred skin there for him to touch.  _That used to be Potter’s touch,_ Draco thought.

Draco had always presumed that Potter felt topping gave him more control, that he could bear less emotional attachment to their coupling if it was done that way; to stick his cock in something, move his hips a bit, then up and leave. Draco smirked slightly, in a rather satire manner.

He soon felt the familiar tightening of his trousers as he pinched his nipple harshly, a choked gasp coming from his mouth as he remembered, without resistance, the way Potter fucked him, claimed him, for only twenty minutes at a time. 

Fully hard, he exhaled shakily, and allowed his hand to retreat and take off his belt. The other hand slowly traced its way downward, as Draco required both hands to execute the action. Draco mused as he unzipped his trousers, over whether that was why he had fallen so hard for the younger man. Was it because he had let Potter fuck him, touch him in ways he had never dared let himself think could ever become a possibility? Was it because he had let Potter hurt him, yet trusted him to not hurt him in such a way that he might break?

He shoved down his boxers and trousers, lifting his hips to do so, leaving them at his ankles. He was broken and it was Potter’s fault. Punishment for his folly, he decided.

Father  _had_ always told of how love ruined a man. Perhaps that was why Lucius never held mother’s hand, or doted on her in such a way his aunt’s late husband had on Bella. He had never been, and will never be, in love with Draco’s mother. 

Potter had broken his heart and Draco had barely shown him a sliver of it, except for when he was at his darkest, most vulnerable. After all, it wasn't like Potter didn’t already  _know_ of his feelings; not when he left the room without so much as a backwards glance. He was a bastard either way and Draco was still a fool. He wondered, however, whether what he had done made  _Potter_  the fool, for causing Draco to act out like he did, and  _him_  the bastard.

Draco’s fingers curled around his aching cock with a sigh, his eyes snapping open as he sat up against the headboard to achieve a better view. His hand moved steadily, lips closed in an almost straight line to prevent any sounds escaping, despite the charms he had already put up for that exact reason. His other hand, resting only on his thigh, came to his lips as he parted them and sucked on two of his fingers.

Shame and impropriety had long ago become his familiars so he didn’t hesitate once. His wet fingers came down, past his cock, past his drawn, heavy balls, to stroke his perineum in a way that mimicked how Potter did it.

Potter. Draco let out an incriminating moan, pumping his erection with more vigour. Lust began to cloud his mind, and lust could do dangerous things to a man. Fuck, he surely loved him. He loved him almost as much as he hated him; aspired to kiss him almost as much as he aspired to hex him senseless. Then again, what he had done removed more than a fraction of his anger towards Potter.

His index finger circled his entrance, taunting himself as it dipped in only a few times, never pushing in all the way, merely playing with his sensitive sphincter. He thumbed his slit, and groaned, unable to stand it and thrusting his finger inside as far as he could in that position. It took only a few seconds to find it, hooking his finger and nudging the bundle of nerves that drove him to heaven and hell in a matter of a few brushes.

His heart raced in his chest and he thought desperately over one of their most recent times – a particularly rough fuck. It had been in the bathroom, with Draco bent over one of the sinks, forced to look at himself in the mirror as Potter slammed into him over and over, leaving him with no choice but to scream into Potter’s hand as Potter moaned.  

He pushed in another finger, fucking himself with them properly, moving his hips and arse as well as bucking onto both the unforgiving fingers and his tight fist, hardly able to draw even one singular breath. He had to fight for them.

There was no holding back. He had always been sensitive, and his stamina had never been entirely commendable, even for a nineteen year old such as himself.

“Harry-” His voice cracked, his body going taut, and his eyes rolling back. Then he jerked, coming with a forceful intensity. “Harry,” he repeated, panting.

A tear slid down Draco’s slack face, and he flung his arm over his eyes, sobbing about everything and nothing all at once.

 

oOo

 

Draco woke up much later - or possibly only half an hour after, he didn’t really know - in Pansy’s arms, with her stroking his hair, whispering over and over that it was alright, that she knew now, and that she had always suspected. There were tear tracks on his cheeks, and with no sharpness in his revelation, he realised he was still half naked, cum painted on his shirt, still coating his hand. He didn’t care; he didn’t care about anything anymore.

But why had he ever thought she was annoying, and clingy? She was his  _best friend_. When was the last time he had talked to Blaise? Let Goyle and Nott hang around him? Bothered with his friends at all?

Potter had taken them away from him, made him lose everything, made him so distracted and lost. Pansy kissed his cheek, and Draco didn’t even blink. Potter had ruined him, leaving him with only the bitter, tangible  _need_  for him. That stupid,  _beautiful_  git.

 _And he didn’t fucking care_.

 

oOo 

 

 _Harry felt it around dawn, the following week – the shift in everything he had come to know since he was eleven years old. He was sitting in Potions class, still ever so infatuated with the idea of becoming an Auror, when it happened. He knocked over the cauldron, his arm jerking spontaneously, involuntarily, and the liquid spilled over the floor, spreading everywhere. He didn’t know how it came about then, but he fell too, his side smacking onto the tiles._  

_A few seconds passed, and then it was only searing hot pain, with an excruciating intensity. It was agony he had never known in his life, that couldn’t be surpassed with even the sweet kiss of death, it seemed. He twisted, screaming and shouting, his body on fire, feeling like he was being torn limb from limb. He heard nothing, saw nothing; he didn’t feel a single fucking thing apart from what was torturing him, the pain never ever dulling, always sharp and piercing._

_And then he saw a pair of grey eyes, flat and cold. He recoiled violently, as he felt fingers brush over him, the pain subsiding, in a way that Harry had thought would be so impossible. The fingers were cold, soothing, and Harry tried to scramble away. Malfoy, he registered. Only Malfoy. That was who it was - he knew that was who it was._

_He was so completely and utterly scared._  

_“Harry.” Harry could hear, and he shook his head, eyes shut tight. No, no, no. Go away, Malfoy. Gods, he hated him so much. He really did. Malfoy ruined everything. He always had done. He knew it was unfair, but he wanted to blame him for everything that had gone wrong. He bet he could, that he could find ways to within reason. He hated him, and he wanted to shout about it –_

_“Harry. Harry!” It didn’t seem so much like Malfoy now. In fact, it took more of a distinctly feminine tone, crying out his name now._

_“Harry! HARRY!” The fingers on him were so much rougher now, shaking him hard. Why couldn’t Malfoy-_

_“HARRY, WAKE UP! PLEASE!”_

Harry shot up, sucking in a breath, feeling sweat all over his body, hands scrabbling and grabbing at the sheets. His eyes opened, rocking with his shakes, and he choked.

“W-what -” He looked around to see Hermione’s face, looking pained, followed by Ron’s face, then Professor McGonagall’s face… He fell back onto the pillow, sighing - nothing out of the ordinary then. 

He had had these sorts of nightmares for quite a while but they had never involved Malfoy even once. Maybe it was because of what had happened earlier that night. Oh Gods, what had happened. He really did hate himself.

Hermione leaned over and wrapped her arms tightly around him, hugging him furiously, as Harry’s breathing and heart rate stabilised.

“Oh, Harry. You wouldn’t wake up. You scared me,” she whispered, and Harry felt another hand take his. It was distinctly large, and it squeezed once before moving away. Ron. Harry swallowed.

As Hermione finally drew back, Ron slipping an arm around Hermione’s waist, Harry spoke again, looking straight at Professor McGonagall, who seemed to be in her evening robes, probably still out monitoring the halls. Only a candle on his nightstand flickered light into the room, and Harry watched it for a moment before turning back to his visitors. He wondered when Hermione had gotten there.

“Why are you here?” he asked, coughing and getting his glasses.

Professor McGonagall sniffed, “Well, Potter, I would have sent Madam Pomfrey had it not been so urgent. Mr Weasley sent for me after you did not stir for all of twenty minutes.” She seemed to hesitate, only for a second, looking as if she had more to say. Harry noticed, and he nodded, curious.

“You were calling out a pupil’s name, Mr Potter.” Of all the luck in the bloody world- “Draco Malfoy’s, as it were. We were all concerned.” Harry avoided looking at everyone - how could he possibly explain such a thing without accidentally letting it all go and blurting out what had been going on for the best part of a year? “If you would please explain -" 

Harry got out of bed quickly. “Actually, Professor, I can’t remember what the dream was about. If you’d excuse me…” He made a gesture as if he wanted to go to the toilet. He realised he was still in his suit from earlier. Huh. McGonagall pursed her lips, then nodded, once. Hermione sighed.

“I should get back then. Harry - Harry?” Harry was already gone, rushing to the bathroom with an alarming speed. Two minutes later, and he was on his knees in front of the toilet, giving in to nausea and guilt as he promptly threw up.

 

oOo

 

“Draco, you have to eat something.” Pansy hissed, nudging him. Draco stared blankly at his plate, face devoid of emotion. He didn’t even lift his head, lest he accidentally catch sight of Potter over there, so bloody happy with the ginger bitch. He wondered when his spell would take effect. He wondered whether he would want to watch, or whether his anger and hurt had been sated enough already.

He had told Pansy everything, after she had essentially forced him to take a bath, to change and look at her without any tears coming to his eyes for a minute. It turned out that Potter hadn’t told anyone, including her, which meant that she truly had only worked it out on her own. So, he told her everything, from every kiss, to every conversation.

But he didn’t tell her about what he had done. He would never tell anyone. Pansy pinched him, and this time Draco did glance at her. “Please,” she whispered, and Draco sighed, nodding, before reaching for his cup, keeping his eyes away from Potter. He brought the cup to his lips, yet like a glutton for punishment, his eyes flickered to over to the Gryffindor table, and he felt his throat clench, as he watched the results of his wandwork take place.

He watched Potter’s eyebrows furrow with confusion, his wand mid-air, his mouth forming clear words:  _What?_   He watched Potter’s wand drop, looking astonished, and then, finally, look at Draco from across the hall.

 

oOo 

 

_After a few seconds of their frantic snogging, Draco’s arms wrapped around Potter’s neck, they separated, Potter resuming his previous actions and hastening to get Draco undressed. He didn't even look at Draco’s dark mark. Neither of them passed a word about it, their breaths audible. Draco glanced at Potter’s lips. The kissing never lasted long. As if he cared._

 _He lifted his hips, hissing under his breath as the cold air hit his cock. A pink flush scattered across his cheeks, realising, not for the first time, that he was naked. Naked. Potter would see him naked. Potter_   _was seeing him naked, like no one ever had before._

_Pause. Potter dragged his eyes from Draco’s crotch to Draco’s face. Another pause. Draco raised his eyebrow, and for all it was worth, sneered. What was Potter going to do, wait all bloody nigh- Potter surged against him, a dry hand clutching at Draco’s half-hard member, giving it a squeeze._

_The Gryffindor bit Draco’s bottom lip, and Draco whimpered before he could control himself, lips parting and letting Potter shove his tongue in, though the kiss seemed to be more teeth than tongue, needy and desperate. Draco bucked his hips into Potter’s hand, craving more relief, when it stopped, way too early for his liking, or for his comfort._  

_Potter’s fingers trailed back, finding the tight, little hole that held Draco’s virtue._

 

oOo

 

Hermione’s eyes narrowed at a spot just above the unconscious Harry, tense with building frustration. It surely couldn’t be possible. How  _could_  it? Such a curse would surpass the severity of an  _Unforgivable_ , and could only be performed by a wizard or a witch who possesses a remarkable level of power or strength. It was simply unheard of. The caster must have invented the incantation and all what else their self.

After quite a long time, Hermione collapsed into the chair by the bed, burying her head into her hands. God. Who on Earth would dare take the extent of a wizard’s magic potential? Furthermore, who would do that to  _Harry Potter?_

Harry stirred, and Hermione stood up quickly, fingers itching to grab her wand and send a patronus along to Madam Pomfrey after all. She didn’t think she really  _was_ the best person to tell Harry that he was now little more or less than a  _squib_.  Hermione stepped forward uneasily as Harry awoke. His eyes fluttered then opened, focusing a little before looking at her.

“Hermione? ...What happened?” She swallowed, a lump in her throat.

 “They had to put you in a magical-induced coma, Harry...to do tests.” Harry’s mouth opened to speak, but she shook her head, continuing. “You...” she exhaled, and then she told him.

 

oOo 

 

Ginny kissed down Harry’s neck, with no trace of delicacy or innocence lining the ministrations. She slid into Harry’s lap, wrapping her legs around his waist, and Harry groaned, eyes closed, as this made his clothed cock positioned exactly beneath her similarly hidden pussy. God, he wanted this  _so_ much. Needed the relief and the comfort, let alone merely being a nineteen year old boy who had never lost his virginity.

At least, to a girl.

“Let me distract you.” Ginny spoke into his ear, and Harry could imagine the devious grin that went along with it. It had only been three hours since he found out he had lost his magic, and he was in  _hell_. Well, not anymore, not as he opened his eyes, redirecting her and kissing her properly, with passion and desire, wanting her more than anyone.

His hands ran down her sides, easing his tongue into her mouth, and Ginny made a sound that would resemble that of a gasp, or maybe a moan. They began to rock against each other, grinding, moving - a cultivation of teenage hormones and vitality, and the time he waited was far too long as Ginny’s fingers hooked onto the waistband of his trousers, beginning to undo them.

And as they had sex, Harry didn’t even think over why he found himself counting each freckle that didn’t mark Malfoy’s skin, why he found himself looking down to see his cock pushing in and out of her at a slow steady pace that didn’t match the speed he normally held with Malfoy, why he came with the memory of Malfoy rocking back onto his erection, the way Ginny didn’t.

Malfoy. Six letters. One word. Such a simple thing, a name, and yet it held  _so_ much. It felt so sour and foul in his mind, and yet, as he pulled out at her request, he envied the fact that with Malfoy, Malfoy would have let him cum inside, would have been personally offended if he  _didn’t_.

He spread her legs once more, licking and lapping at her crotch, sucking on her swollen clit, until she, too, came, arching her back and crying out.

And, yet, she didn’t compare to Malfoy, though he hated the blond  _so bloody much_. 

But, most of all, he hated himself.

 

oOo

 

Draco breathed shakily, before his control gave out, allowing a ragged sob that echoed throughout the bathroom. His mouth felt dry and sour and his head was killing him. He lifted his chin, a single tear running down his cheek, and wiped his mouth, picking up one of the arms that had been folded across the toilet seat.

If only he could blame Potter for this, too.

Ha…

 

oOo

 

Harry stared at the ground as he walked, with dread outlining every single one of his glances, steps or even breaths. He had lost the one thing that mattered most to him. Magic.

Except that it wasn’t really what mattered most to him. It was what brought about the best things that ever happened to him, regardless of everything that happened after. It gave him friends, and family. And maybe most of them are dead now, and maybe some of them he never knew anyway, no matter what he learned about them. But it was so much better than before he turned eleven, and he didn’t regret anything if it meant he had who he had now, even if it was only those people out of many. 

He remembered peeking out through the gap between the door and the frame of the cupboard when he was seven, sniffling and watching as Dudley waddled down the hallway with his friend. Matthew – a year older than him with brown hair and bright blue eyes. Why didn’t he have a Matthew?

He remembered crying for a few hours, because he didn’t get why his cousin got to see his friends, why he got to  _make_ friends, and Harry didn’t. He didn’t get why they were so inconceivably  _horrible_ towards him, and had been since Harry lay on his back in his basket, nappy long soaked and dirtied, face red with the exertion of his howls, fists curled and legs kicking.

He was so glad it wasn’t like that now, even if he  _did_ find it hard to sleep sometimes, and even if the expectations and fame inflicted upon him weren’t always so welcome, because he had people that  _loved_  him.

Or, at least, cared for him.

Harry reached the gargoyle guarding the way to Dumbledore’s -  _McGonagall's_ office, stopping by it, and taking a deep breath, looking around before voicing the password, watching as it slid aside, revealing the spiral staircases he had come to know so well from his first year. He came up then, fiddling with his robes for a moment before walking in, looking up with an earnest expression as he heard the Headmaster speak.

“Mr Potter.” McGonagall’s tone gave nothing away, neither warm nor grave. Stood similarly by her desk was a vast amount of people. Madam Pomfrey, Professor Flitwick, Professor Slughorn, Pomona Sprout, Mr and Mrs Weasley, a few aurors… and Hagrid, who was wiping his eyes.

He sat down, clutching the sides of the chair.

 

oOo 

 

“No magic? It’s - here, try it with my wand. Maybe yours is broken or something.” 

“That’s impossible… Are you joking? He’s joking.”  

“Who would even do something like that?”

“A Slytherin, probably.” 

“Harry?”

“Harry!”  

Harry was surrounded by, as it seemed, everyone in Gryffindor, and found himself actually wanting respite from it. It was draining, and simply horrible. Whatever he needed it wasn’t this. Not at all. He rubbed one of his eyes with the back of his hand, lifting his glasses, which was apparently the sign for Ron to step in and get people to back off.

“Alright, everybody, bugger off. He’s had a long day. I bet you can all read about it in the Prophet.” Harry winced at that, and Ron gave him an apologetic glance, before continuing to address them all. “Seamus, honestly. It’s not a bloody joke.”

Finally, they were all gone, and Hermione sat next to him with Ron sitting down on the carpet in front of the couch. She placed a hand on Harry’s arm, and Harry looked at her. Then he cracked.

“My life is over.” He groaned, burying his face into his hands. 

Ron snorted. “Well, mate, I don’t disagree with you. Herbology is a pretty boring -”

“Ron!” Hermione scolded him, aghast, and Harry fanned his fingers, peeking at them again. Hermione shifted.

“Well, at least you haven’t been expelled.” She pointed out, and Harry wanted to laugh, and not in the humorous way. “Honestly. And it’s not like it’s known to be permanent.” 

“It’s not known to be temporary, either.” 

Silence. Then, “Good going being positive there, Harry. Keep it up.” Harry and Hermione chucked pillows at him.

 

oOo

 

Draco straddled Blaise, their breathing fought for as he undid Blaise’s buttons in a trained, efficient way, before ripping off his shirt, both of them having to sit up for it. They met for another kiss, before Draco had had enough, reaching for Blaise’s belt. Blaise stopped him there, raising an eyebrow, a vaguely amused expression on his face, which truly didn’t blend well with the lust encapsulated in his features as well.  

“I thought purebloods were meant to be virgins.” Draco, impatient as he had been since the moment they burst into the dorm, rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“Purebloods are meant to be a lot of things, Blaise.” He snatched Blaise’s hand, placing it over Draco’s own crotch, making Blaise feel the bulge of his aching erection. He leaned forward, Blaise’s hand not straying, only palming him, and licked the shell of Blaise’s ear, before whispering, breathily, “But what I’d  _like_  to be is riding your cock.”

 

 oOo

  

Draco lifted himself off of Blaise with a constrained denial of a wince, letting Blaise’s spent cock slip free from his arse, and rolled onto his back, their shoulders touching. Draco licked his lips, staring at the ceiling, and only turned his head as Blaise got up, eyes travelling down Blaise’s body, and taking no niceties in admiring Blaise’s arse. Draco expected what was to come next, and spoke first. “I won’t tell anyone, before you panic,” he told him dryly. 

“I don’t panic.”

“As you say,” he smirked, still studying Blaise’s dark behind.

 

oOo 

 

_Narcissa leant down, and tucked a stray golden lock behind her child’s ear, a delicate smile on her face as Draco looked up at her with his big silver eyes. “Look at you,” she murmured, picking him up and cradling him as he held out his pudgy arms. She placed a silent kiss on Draco’s forehead, and he gurgled._

_“Cissa.” She looked over her shoulder, dark, long hair flying. She looked him up and down, and frowned. What could have possibly gone wrong?_

_She started to rock Draco in her arms._  

 _Lucius was a wreck, a deranged, ruined version of himself. His flowing blond hair Narcissa admired so much was tangled and filled with debris. His eyes were bloodshot, and Narcissa soon found herself turning her own away from his body._  

_“The - Dark Lord is gone.” Lucius said in a low, choked voice. Narcissa shut her eyes._

_“How so?” She asked in a whisper. With the removal of the Dark Lord… a tear slipped down her cheek. Lucius and herself would be Kissed. Draco would be orphaned, and mistreated for the rest of his life for being the offspring of a Death Eater and his equally committed wife. Lucius made a choking sound, before finally speaking._

_“I don’t know. We were waiting under his command, then we were told - to escape. That he was gone, and that was all.” Narcissa exhaled._ _“But I know where he was.” Lucius revealed after a few minutes of silence._

 _“Where?” She implored him, opening her eyes and looking at her child with anguish._

_“There was a prophecy.”  Lucius spoke. “The Dark lord was to kill the Potter child, Harry Potter.”_   

_“Did he?” Narcissa questioned._

_“No.”_

_Draco began to wail, unexpectedly, and the conversation was left alone for the moment._

 

oOo 

 

Harry slid under the covers, and turned on his side, taking off his glasses before lying back down on his back, breathing out and swallowing thickly.

Everything would change now.

His eyes watered, and he clamped a hand over his mouth. He didn’t want anyone to have to worry about him. The first tear fell, and he only wished he could put up a silencing charm as he sobbed as quietly as he could force himself.

His magic was gone, and Harry had no idea where to even begin on his way to accept it.

 

oOo 

 

Draco leaned against the wall, eyes shut as he listened to his friends discuss him. Oh, what friends they truly were.

“You had sex with him,” came Pansy’s accusation, and Draco didn’t even flinch.

“What about it -” Draco heard a sharp slapping sound, and his eyes shot open, freezing.

“Have you not  _seen_ him recently, Blaise?” Pansy hissed, “Or, for that matter, the whole year? He doesn’t eat, I’ve seen him cry at least several times - he’s  _out of his mind_.” Draco knew there would be a scowl upon her face. “All because of Potter.” She spat.

“What -”

“That’s not important.”

“Stop interrupting me, would you?” Draco scoffed. Telling Pansy what to do was a fool’s demise.

And oh, what a fool Blaise was. Pansy was right; perhaps he  _was_  going out of his mind.

And Blaise had fucked him.

What folly.

  

oOo 

 

Luna dangled her legs off the bed, and removed the quill from her ear, beginning to neatly write out the letter that she wouldn't send just yet. Only when the time was right. She penned it, the charmed silver words glittering across the parchment.   
  
Then, she stood up, and dropped to her knees, fishing under her bed for the box of all the other letters she wouldn't send just yet to Ginevra Weasley. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment please?


	3. Je T'aime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairings in this chapter: Draco/Harry, Ginny/Harry, Draco/Blaise, Luna/Ginny
> 
> Kill me. Just fuck me up the arse with a sword. Writers block is the worst.
> 
> WARNING: Self harm in the forms of throwing up and cutting (both non-explicit) are included within this chapter.

Harry didn’t see much of Malfoy the following day. In fact, he didn’t see him  _at all_. It was like he had just disappeared, with not a single teacher bothering to ask where he was in the classes they shared. Even Ron was disinterested, who usually had quite a lot to say about Malfoy doing anything questionable.

He didn’t know  _why_  he was worrying about Malfoy, when no one else was. They had never actually been together, not in the scheme of things. After all, every single affair they had ever had always ended with little more than bitter words and scathing looks. Honestly, he should be  _glad_  it was all over with, but it didn’t stop him checking every five minutes the place Malfoy should have been, and wasn’t.

He chewed on a piece of toast, and went to look over again, only to freeze as his gaze was met by none other than Pansy Parkinson. Unsettlingly, her eyes were narrowed in an almost accusing manner. What was wrong with her? He swallowed his mouthful, and reached for a glass of pumpkin juice. He brought it to his lips with his heart thudding in his chest. Badump. Badump.

She couldn’t know, she couldn’t possibly know -

Pansy tilted her head, and lifted up her middle finger, presenting it to him.

 

oOo

 

Harry let his face fall into his hands. “It’s hopeless, Hermione, I don’t think even the restricted section will help us this time.” Hermione rolled her eyes, and turned a page, eyes flickering up to Pince.

“Keep quiet. Anyway, I don’t think it’ll do much harm to  _try_ , would it?” She elbowed him when he didn’t reply, and Harry shrugged.

“We’ve been through six books, already,” He pointed out. “We’re going to be  _trying_  a long time.”

Hermione wasn’t having it. “Then you had better help me by reading, too.” She replied smartly, and got up to find another book. Harry groaned back into his hands, and scuffed his shoes on the floor under the table.

 

oOo

 

At times, Draco wondered whether he should feel ashamed and all what else, too. Yes, Potter had been the one to date the ginger girl and fuck Draco on the side, but Draco surely wasn’t any better. After all, he had known from the very beginning that Potter was seeing her, and he had agreed to the deal anyway.

There was no flattering excuse. He had always hated Weasley, even before he fell for Potter, so perhaps he had done it in spite of her, or perhaps only just because it had felt  _so fucking good_.

Yet he had been a virgin, so what was he to know how good it felt when Potter made the preposition?

Draco himself didn’t know why he cared about his virginity so much, why that held so much weight when it came to thinking about the reasons he loathed Potter so much. Losing one’s “virtue” was nothing but a social concept. For  _straight_ _girls_ , Not  _gay_   _boys_.

It shouldn’t have meant so much that Potter was the first one he had sex with.

But it did, and Draco tried to forget about it all as he grabbed the bottle of lube, eyes flickering towards Blaise with a smirk on his lips.

 

oOo

 

Ginny walked down the empty hallway, long hair brushed to one side. She had nothing to entertain her - everyone seemed busy, and as if Ginny would start on that Herbology essay when she had all of two weeks to do it in. Not that Harry was busy, actually. Just - preoccupied. She didn’t blame him, since he did lose his magic, and Ginny didn’t know if she herself would be alright with it if the same thing happened.  

But it didn’t stop her from getting slightly frustrated when Harry dismissed her invitation to go to the lake together that night, since she had a lot of plans for it. That they could talk for ages, walk around a bit, maybe even make love again. She flushed a deep, true-Weasley crimson, despite the fact she was by herself, and no one ordinary could hear her thoughts.

She still couldn’t believe it had happened. Harry had been so...Nice and gentle about it. And he had made it feel  _good_. She smirked as she remembered all the awkward parts about it, all the bloody amazing parts - just everything. Harry seemed almost practiced, but he told Ginny he was a virgin, too, which made Ginny’s heart swell, really. She was Harry’s  _first_.

She loved him, so much. In her earlier years, it was more of an - obsession, she could admit. She was infatuated by the idea of  _Harry Potter, the boy who lived_. She had been so stupid back then, not even really knowing Harry at all. Then sixth year came - and maybe it didn’t end well, but she didn’t mind, because she knew Harry would come back to her, and it was only so that he could protect her, as he always did.

Eighth year was where it all fell into place, and Ginny couldn’t be happier. It took a while for everyone to adjust to everything that had happened - Ginny, for one, couldn’t bear to look at George just as much as he couldn’t bear to look in the mirror - but they all slowly began to move on, for the better.

She sighed, and decided to go to Hogsmeade. Luna mentioned something about being there, and Ginny wanted to go get a butterbeer, anyway. She was about to turn back the way she came, to get some money for the trip, before she froze, eyes widening.

A moan came from the door of an empty classroom. Well, what appeared to be an empty classroom, as she drew closer to the source of the sound. She wasn’t perverse, just curious. They must have put concealment charms up. Her cheeks felt hot to the touch, as she realized it was two  _men_  in there having sex. Oh.

Yes, Ginny was no longer a virgin, but with her curiosity now quelled, she wasn’t a dirty voyeur now. She quickly took a step back, wanting to just rush away - it wasn’t right to eavesdrop anymore - when she heard it, the murmuring of one of the men. For all their other successes, there was still a hamartia in their defences. No muffling charms, meaning - Oh, Merlin.

“Mmm, that’s it. Fuck.  _Fuck_.  _Ahh._ ” Ginny felt slightly sick, knowing all too well who the voice belonged to. She placed a hand to her forehead, unable to comprehend this. “Fuck, stop.  _Stop_. I’m fine. Fuck me.” It was Draco Malfoy.

Ginny had heard enough, troubled by the fact she had probably the most deepest, private secret of the man who had tormented her friends and boyfriend since they were young, and she had no idea what to do with it.

She turned on her heel, and ran.

Draco Malfoy liked  _boys_.

 

oOo

 

Draco rested his head on his folded arms as Blaise thrusted into him, only the occasional gasp or moan coming out of him. Blaise appeared to be experienced, in ways Potter and himself weren’t. Many to be specific.

Blaise’s hand snaked around Draco’s cock, and Draco bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. “So tight, fuck.” He heard Blaise’s voice come, and he didn’t respond, just taking it. Draco’s senses were on fire as they usually were, moving back against Blaise, choking out a moan every time Blaise slammed into him in such a way that he felt undeniable, so-fucking-brilliant pleasure, heart beating, breathing shaky, freezing as - Blaise. Dug. His. Nails. Into. His. Hips.

His eyes snapped open, and his head shot up. “Stop.” He snapped, shaking, then when Blaise didn’t, he hissed, with more venom, “Stop!” Blaise quickly pulled out, his hand still on Draco’s hip.

“Draco?” Blaise was behind him, his breath on Draco’s neck, and Draco gripped the desk, his knuckles going white, standing up properly now.

“Don't do that.”

“Why?” The response was quick, and Draco’s eyes narrowed. He turned, and slapped Blaise’s hand away.

“Because you have no right, and if you do it again, we’re done.”

Blaise seemed to process that, a stony face matching Draco’s own. FInally, he nodded, and pushed Draco back a bit. Draco rolled his eyes, and the tension faded, with Draco sitting on the desk, parting his legs without Blaise asking. Blaise moved between them, and kissed Draco deeply, guiding his cock back in.

Draco met his kiss hungrily, wrapping his legs around Blaise’s waist, his arms around Blaise’s neck, all the while wondering why he always let Potter mark him, let him bite and hit him even, but not anyone else.

 

oOo

 

Draco slid into his seat, and flinched as Blaise’s hand brushed against his. He gave him a sharp look of warning, then sighed and took a sip from his glass. Pansy cleared her throat, and then whispered in Draco’s ear. “Daphne heard from Astoria - her sister - that the reports are going out today. How we’ve done this year.” Draco raised an eyebrow, and put the glass down.

“We will get our own copy too, I assume?” Pansy shook her head.

“No. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? But that’s how it is.” She rolled her eyes. “They’ll be sent back with our parents’ comments written on them, sometime next week. Obscene, really. Leaving us in suspense.” Blaise shrugged.

“Draco’s one will be sent to my parents.  _He_  has nothing to worry about. Not this time.” Pansy gasped as Blaise seemed to realize what he had reminded Draco of, and Draco’s face fell, stricken. He looked away from them both.

“Well done, Blaise. Remind him that his parents...” Their voices seemed to fade into the background as Draco tuned them out, until all Draco could hear was the beating of his heart. He licked his lips, and leaned forward, resting his face in the palms of his hands. Blaise surely meant well, yet that only derived more emotions from Draco. None that were positive in any form.

Fear. Self-loathing. Disgust. Another helping of fear.

He forced himself to keep still as Blaise touched his shoulder, but all the while detested his presence.

He didn’t want Blaise to fall in love with him like he had done so foolishly with Harry.

The name made his head hurt, and he moved his hands, letting one drop to press the back of the other one to his forehead. He focused again, hearing Pansy’s voice, and jolted, looking to her, but keeping his hand where it was.

“Are you alright?” Pansy asked quietly, and Draco, in that second, could have laughed. How could Pansy ask such a thing? Was she really so dense? He caught himself once more. Pansy was his best friend, it wouldn’t do well to turn against her such as he had been conditioned to ever since he hooked up with Potter.

“I’m fine.” He shook them both off, and with a shaky hand, picked up his fork, and wondered whether his results were good or bad. Not that it mattered, of course.

No one cared about his academics anymore. He stabbed his fork into a piece of chicken. And barely anyone about him.

 

 oOo

 

_“You could have just fucked me.” Draco sneered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, leant against the door. The taste in his mouth was hardly pleasant. Potter rolled his eyes and zipped up his trousers._

_“Yeah, well, you’re loud. And I’m late.” Harry defended, and went to move past him. Draco glared, and grabbed Potter’s wrist._

_“Forgetting something?” He snapped, and forced Potter to cup the hard outline of his cock through his trousers. Potter hesitated, and Draco dropped his hand, waiting._

_Potter made a sound that could have been a groan, or a sigh, or perhaps both. Yet, Draco didn’t ponder on it much as Potter suddenly kissed him roughly, knocking him further back into the door. Draco felt the sudden desire to run his fingers through Potter’s hair, but quelled it by biting Potter’s lip instead, making the other shove his tongue inside._

_They parted once to breathe, panting, then collided once more, with Potter reaching down to undo Draco’s slacks hastily._

_He wondered if Potter could taste his own cum in Draco’s mouth, and arched up into Potter’s hand, gasping as he tipped his head back._

 

oOo

 

Harry took off his glasses, just about ready to give up and go to sleep at last. Ron and the others had gone to dinner, but he had told them he was sick, which was a blatant lie. There was a knock on the door, and he paused, wondering why his heart was beating so fast at just the sound of a rap on wood.

He got up, retrieved his glasses again, and quickly opened the door. “Oh.” He raised his eyebrows. “Hi.” He stood back to let her in, running his eyes over her. She was beautiful, with every movement, with every sound.

So why was that not enough? Why was it  _never fucking enough_?

 

 oOo

 

“I didn’t know who else I could tell. And I know you hate him, Harry, but I know you wouldn’t tell anyone else.” Harry did his best to keep his breathing steady, his heart rate normal. He wasn’t sure he was succeeding at either. “Harry?” He swallowed thickly.

“Who was he with?” He questioned after a while, unable to look at her. “Did you see them?” He added quickly. Ginny shrugged, picking at fluff on his duvet. Harry watched her hands move.

“I dunno. I mean, it was obviously a guy.” Ginny flushed a bit more at the memory of Malfoy’s...sounds. Ugh. “Probably a Slytherin one, too. But I only heard them, Harry, I  _told you_.” She prompted, and nudged him. She sighed. “So what should we do?”

Harry’s eyes narrowed, and irritation quickly broke through in him. “What do you mean what do we do? Nothing. If he’s into boys, then it’s got nothing to do with me or you.” He snapped, fists clenching, and he finally looked at her, only to sober, his momentary anger quickly leaving him as he saw her expression; wide-eyed and one freckled hand over her mouth. He looked to the side. “Sorry.”

Ginny took a breath and then shook her head. “No, it’s okay. But I didn't mean it like that.” She reassured him. “But...I just mean… We can use this. Get him to stop - attacking you all the time. I’ve seen it, Harry.” Harry kept his mouth shut. “Yeah, he hasn’t done it recently - and I know we only have a couple of weeks left - but doesn’t it make  _you_  angry?” She snorts. “He’s so bloody prejudiced and bigoted, then it turns out him himself is gay.”

“You don’t know he’s gay.” Harry said after a moment. “He could still like girls.” But then again, when had he ever seen Draco with a girl? There was Pansy… But they were clearly just friends now. And - no, that was it. “And maybe he was just in denial.” He suggested, and Ginny face-palmed.

“Look, that’s not important. I’m just saying you can go up to him, and tell him that you know he likes boys or whatever, and you won’t - tell anyone at all if he leaves you alone. All of us, really -”

“You want me to blackmail him.” Harry muttered, and Ginny blinked.

“No. It’s not like that. We’re asking him to be a decent human being -”

“By threatening to tell people he’s not so into shagging, and more into being the one shagged.”

Harry realised he’d say too much, just as Ginny slowly said, voice uneasy, “How did you know he - um - is the girl? I never told you that bit.” Of course, people who _weren’t_ anything less than straight would call the bottom a girl.

Not that Harry gay or anything.

“I guessed. You know he looks like the type of bloke.”

“R-right. Anyway, fine, don’t worry about it.” Ginny sounded hurt, and Harry had to admit he had been a bit harsh on her, and let his feelings for Malfoy -

Feelings?  _Feelings_? Like how he had stared at Malfoy all lunch, willing for him to glance at him again? Like how he spent whole lessons wondering where Malfoy was whenever he didn’t turn up? Like how he wondered if Malfoy took care of himself now, if those slender, talented fingers ran down his own creamy thighs, before going to touch his perfect cock? Like how he wondered if he had ever left bruises on Malfoy, or love bites, and if Malfoy secretly loved them?

“Maybe it’s best if we broke up.” Harry blurted out, staring at the wall.

This wasn’t love. It couldn’t be. He still loathed Malfoy. Still was so, so annoyed by him. Still hated his stupid, cruel views of muggleborns, and the way he smirked as he drawled insults.

But it was  _something_.

 

oOo

 

Hermione placed a hand on Ginny’s back, and moved her hand up and down, or in circular motions, quiet and thoughtful. How could Harry hurt Ginny like this? It wasn’t that Hermione had expected them to stay together for eternity, of course, but she had expected them to stay together until there was a reason to not be. Harry didn’t grant Ginny with one, only a “sorry” and “it would be better for you” here and there.

Luna, on the other hand, spoke plentiful, moving to tuck Ginny’s hair behind her ear. If it was Hermione she was doing that to, Hermione would have dismissed her, but Ginny wasn’t moving at all. She looked rather like someone else she had seen in their time of misery, in that moment.

She looked like Draco Malfoy on the day of his trial. Like her world was going to end.

“He’s not right, Ginny,” Luna coaxed, still fussing over Ginny. “Since the war… It’s been rather difficult for all of us, hasn’t it? Especially Harry. I’m sure things will go back to as they were, soon.” Ginny sniffed, and Hermione watched as another tear rolled down her face.

Hermione was doubtful of how true Luna’s words were. Yes, of course, Harry been through so much, and was obviously affected, but… She wasn’t quite sure that it would be  _soon_  that Harry moved on from it all.

 

oOo

 

Harry collapsed onto the bed, face down in the pillow, thoughts whirling around in his head. He had broken up with Ginny, the one who he was  _meant_  to be with and who  _made sense_ to be with. He had just gone and done it, and Harry wasn’t sure if he could say he had done it without thinking or not because the whole time he had been fixating on one thing, but that thing had been Draco Malfoy.

Harry’s hand fisted a part of the duvet, and he made a groaning sound. What did this mean? That he had never loved her? Because surely he had, for he had held her hand of his own volition too many times to count on five people’s hands that week, for he had kissed her every day with his eyes closed, for he had -

_You don’t cheat on people you’re in love with._

Harry swallowed, and felt an ache somewhere within him. If he hadn’t loved her, there was only one other person he could have loved, and still did. The one that made him break up with her.

Time stilled, Harry closed his eyes, ready to shut down rather than face it all.

 

oOo

 

_Draco let the shard clutter to the floor, as a disembodied shriek rang out through the bathroom. “Draco!” He slumped forward, feeling the blood trickle down his arm. How long would it take to dry? Or would Pansy clean it up first? He felt nauseous, and pressed his hand to his forehead, wincing._

_“Draco, Draco, Draco - Shit! SHIT!” Pansy screamed, and Draco didn’t flinch away as she took hold of his arm gingerly. His eyelids fluttered open, eyes on her, but vision bleary. Her face was devoid of emotion, yet she was pale, as if all the blood had left her face, and tear tracks stained her cheeks. Draco swiped at them clumsily with his free hand. It fell before his fingertips even brushed against her skin._

 

oOo

 

“Why? Why would you do this? Are you _sick_?” Pansy hissed, and Draco sighed, flushing the chain.

“Leave it be, Pansy.” He snapped, and Pansy’s eyes narrowed. It wasn’t as if there weren’t so before, but it was the first time he had seen Pansy’s face since she found him sticking his fingers down his throat.

“You’re making yourself throw up!” When Draco only shrugged his shoulder, she swung her arm, and slapped him full across the face. Draco gasped, and raised a hand to his cheek, staring at her in shock.

“You’re scaring me!” She screamed, and Draco wondered if anyone could hear her. Her eyes filled with tears, and Draco looked down. She rushed forward, and wrapped her arms around him, her sobbing sounds loud and painful. “You’re - scaring me.” She repeated, and Draco’s arms slowly looped around her waist.

He listened to her cry, resting his chin on her shoulder and willing himself to not be as weak as to break down too. His throat hurt, his stomach felt as if someone was stabbing him - but he stood perfectly still.

“I love you.” He murmured, and Pansy scoffed through her tears.

“I know. I love you too.”

Draco sighed.

“I’m inlove with him, Pansy.” He whispered, and Pansy pulled away, blinking and dabbing with her sleeve under her eyes.

“I know that too,” She laughed bitterly, and Draco wanted to curse her with any and every dark spell Bella ever taught him. “It doesn’t mean you have to hurt everyone else like Potter hurt you.” She snapped, then turned and left the cubicle, slamming the door out of the way and leaving it swinging open.

 

oOo

 

 _“Why, Draco, why?” She whispered, and Draco found he couldn’t respond to her with anything at all. How_ could _he speak about his Father’s death? Let it be confirmed by his very own lips, as if his eyes and ears weren’t enough?_

_And, after all, Draco was certain only two people in the entire world cared at all, one of them being him._

 

oOo

 

“He did it.” Harry gasped, wiping away sweat from his forehead, as staring straightforward as, by the light of a few candles, his dorm mates stared at him.

It hadn’t even been a nightmare this time. No, it had just been his comatose subconscious’s rendition of the night of the ball, when Malfoy told Harry he loved him and Harry told him he hated him... and now it all made sense.

“...Who did what, mate?” Ron asked uneasily, and Harry looked at him with bleary eyes.

“Malfoy cursed me.” One light flickered out.

 

oOo

 

**SNEAK PEEK**

They both closed their eyes as they kissed, gently and softly, and Ginny felt warm inside as it stayed like that. Sweet and in tranquility. Finally, Luna pulled away, and Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but Luna spoke first.

“I’m sorry.” Luna gathered her things quickly, and Ginny just stared at her. Luna looked close to tears - a dreadful thing no one, let alone Ginny, would ever want to see. She glanced at Ginny once, and then quickly left.

Ginny pressed two fingers to her lips, and wondered what on earth had just happened. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Review for Lunny ;)


	4. Vous aimer, haïr moi-même

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairings in this chapter: Ron/Hermione, bit of Narcissa/Lucius, Draco/Harry, Ginny/Luna, Draco/Blaise, Draco/Pansy
> 
> Ok, OK, OKAY I KNOW YOU ALL HATE ME.
> 
> I'm soooo sorry.
> 
> Writer's block basically made a home out of my brain, and do believe me when I say I was fucking miserable about it.
> 
> But I'm back with this very, very shitty chapter! I hope you all will begin to forgive me, and enjoy this 4k brainfart ^-^

 

 

Ron didn’t know what was wrong with Harry, he really didn’t. He had tried talking to him about his break-up with Ginny, but Harry simply took off quickly after he brought it up. Not to say he spoke to Harry outside of mentioning what he did to Ginny, of course.

He had been livid when he had found out, walking into the Hermione’s dorm - Luna had sent for him - and seeing his little sister cry on her bed, face in her hands. He had never expected Harry to hurt Ginny for he had thought he could trust him - he still did in a way, but not as much as he had used to.

But days had passed. Not many, mind, but they had come and gone. He had noticed how down Harry was and had been for quite a long time. He had seen him wake up crying and panting, subjected to nightmares every night. He had seen him straight after the war with the lack of sleep causing him to look like he had black eyes, and his skin so pale and body so thin he thought his best mate might die after everything.

He knew Harry had gone through a lot, so as time passed, he forgave him. Not wholly, and he didn’t understand why, but, fuck, he had given up on Harry before, hadn’t he? In fourth year, when Harry had been made to contest in the Triwizard Tournament. The year prior, when he had left Harry - and Hermione, too - when they needed him most. He had made judgements, had been jealous and insecure and frustrated with things, and at times treated Harry no better than Malfoy, Snape or even the Dursleys had treated him.

But at the same time, he had also been a bloody brilliant best friend. He had stuck with him for some of the most important times, and swore to die to protect Harry. So, with all those things in mind… He couldn’t judge Harry. He wasn’t going to turn against him this time.

At least, if Harry explained why the fuck he hurt his sister for seemingly no reason, and stopped looking over to the Slytherin table every five seconds, because so help him if Harry had dumped Ginny to get with Pansy pug-faced Parkinson or another girl...

 

oOo

 

_Draco entered the room, casting a cautious glance at the guard hovering by the door, before his eyes flickered back to the scene in front of him. He walked forward, and kneeled down in front of the man sitting on the floor. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t, and if he did, he would hide his folly._

_“Draco.” A large, pale hand brushed over the top of Draco’s head, and Draco did his best to swallow the lump in his throat._

_“Father,” he returned, and broke at the sound of his own word passing through his lips._   
  
_“I love you.” Draco whispered, his hands shaking as he clasped them. And he did, even throughout it all. Yes, Draco sometimes loathed him, for Lucius had corrupted him. Father had taught him all the despicable ways he knew; all the things that had only come back to bite him in the arse._

_But he had always presented each lesson with a present. And oh, how Draco had loved presents as a child._

_“Tell the same thing to your mother, from me.” Draco nodded, sniffed and rose. He hadn’t expected any such affection from his father to him. After all, Lucius had never gave him any to begin with, unless one counted spoiling him with the money and authority Lucius had never worked for._

_“Draco?” Draco turned and glanced at his father with tearful eyes. No crying. He blinked them away._

_“Don’t dissapoint me.” Before Draco could respond, a hand touched his elbow, and he jerked back, looking at the person._

 

oOo

 

Harry was indefinitely avoiding her, Hermione decided. No matter what she did, or how much she tried, Harry kept slipping from her grasp. Ron’s, too, or so he said, since it was a ridiculous idea that Harry could avoid Ron as well when they literally shared a dorm.

She had run out of ideas. She had tried cornering him in numerous lessons, but Harry had faked having a bad cough, making everyone look at him every minute or so when he coughed loudly; there was simply no way she could talk to him without getting caught. She had tried to catch him in the Great Hall, but he surrounded himself with fans who happily shoved Hermione out of the way when she came up to him. She had even tried stalking him, following him as he went to have a bath, but one blink was all it took for Harry to suddenly disappear beneath a cloak, and run off.

She narrowed her eyes at the desk, her pen scraping on the wood. What was wrong with him? Yes, she couldn’t blame anyone for not wanting to get lectured by her, though she could certainly blame them for what they were getting lectured for, but Harry never avoided her just to miss it.

Her head filled with questions and ideas. Was he scared she would stop being his friend? That would never happen. Even Ron,  who was furious when he first heard that Harry had broken Ginny’s heart, still agreed with Hermione that he’d carry on being Harry’s best friend, but only if he gave him the reason why he broke up with Ginny, mind.

Surely, Harry couldn’t think they would break friends indefinitely with him for breaking up with Ginny. No, of course not. Perhaps it was something else. Was he scared that she would be disappointed, that it would be hard for things to go back to normal? Was he simply sick of _everyone_ right now, not just Ginny?

Or… could it be that the reason he broke up with Ginny was not something he wanted very much to share, at all?

 

oOo

 

“Draco! Draco Malfoy!”

Draco looked over his shoulder to see a seventh year girl approach with a boy of the same age not far behind her. He turned around, folding his arms and arching one eyebrow. “Yes?” he asked.

The girl took a deep breath, then passed him a piece of paper. “I want to invite you to the party in Ravenclaw. It’s in three days.” Draco’s eyes lowered to the invitation in his hands, reading it quickly then glancing back at her.

“Why are you having it?” He wanted to ask why she was inviting him, as well, but didn’t.

The girl rolled her sleeves up habitually. “Because it’s the end of the year, of course. Not just for you eighth years,” She remarked.

Draco considered it. “So, both my year and yours will be attending?”

She nodded. “Hopefully,” She took a step back. “Invite your friends, would you? Especially that Pansy Parkinson. She’s nice.” She looked back at the boy behind her, then added, “Casual attire, mind.”

They left soon after that, with Draco staying where he was. A party seemed laughable when it came to thinking about what had happened so recently. How the man he was in love with told him he loathed him, how he went to the bathroom to stick two fingers down his throat more often than he went to wash himself, how his friends had taken to _bitching_ about him behind his back.

He ripped the piece of paper into two, even pieces, and walked on.

 

oOo

 

Harry stared at the ceiling, not wanting to even think about what he was going to do. His hand rested on his thigh, the other on his forehead, lifting his fringe off his face. He breathed out, and closed his eyes, and moved his hand.

It didn’t take long until he was handling himself, touching and stroking his cock with slow movements of his fist. It started off slow, but soon enough, he was rocking into his hand, breathy moans coming from him, as he finally let himself give in to his desire - Draco Malfoy.

Of course, it wasn’t as if Malfoy was there. It wasn’t as if he was watching him, or assisting him as he would have done before. But it was little less than the same as he imagined - no, remembered - Draco on his knees, looking up at him with grey, calculating eyes as he licked slowly up the length of Harry’s cock.

Harry bit down, hard, on his lip to keep himself from making more noise than he could help. He no longer had magic to use at his leisure - silencing spells were no longer an option. But as the image of Draco changed to one of Draco riding his cock, with his eyes fluttering closed and his head tipped back, and he came closer to his peak, it proved less than easy.

Draco was gorgeous, in ways that Harry and his former crushes and partners weren’t. He was manipulative and sometimes downright pathetic, but oh, _oh_ , did it matter when the manipulation Draco used to accomplish only lead to the most strongest of orgasms? Did it matter how pathetic Draco was when it was _so fucking ho_ t, with Draco wanton and submissive beneath him, writhing and whimpering with pleasure and desire and pure, filthy _need_?

But that was all in the past, and Malfoy no longer was there for a quick fuck in an abandoned classroom at gone 8pm, no longer there for frantic, desperate gropes and wet, rough face-fucking. Yet, it didn’t mean Harry couldn’t remember, that he didn’t still know how Malfoy was and how he could be. It didn’t mean Malfoy was any less gorgeous, even through the haze that was Harry’s disinclination towards everything that he was when he wasn’t spreading his legs.

Five minutes later, and Harry came into his hand and over the sheets. His breath wasn’t to be caught, and neither were his thoughts as realisation hit him like a freight train.

He had just gotten off to Draco Malfoy.

To many, that shouldn’t mean a single thing when he had already fucked Draco Malfoy so hard and so many times. But it did, because he had always separated reality from his affairs with Malfoy. He had limited their meetings to classrooms and hours that were to be forgotten. He had done his best to not talk, to not even think, about their coupling outside of those spaces.

But now he had taken his cock into hand, and climaxed to the very vivid image of Malfoy on his hands and knees in front of him, and he realised, not for the first time, that Malfoy was affecting his life very, very much.

He also realised, for the first time, that he should do something about it.

 

oOo

 

They walked side by side, shoulders touching slightly, as the sun beat down on their backs. Ginny looked around, before finding a nice, dry patch of grass to sit on. She sat down promptly, pulling Luna down with her with a grip on the blonde’s list.

Ginny crossed her legs, and Luna tucked them beneath her. “It’s a nice day, isn’t it?” Luna asked politely, and Ginny smiled, rolling her eyes.

“It’s an amazing day, Luna,” She told her, snorting, and then patted Luna’s knee. “Now, tell me what you wanted to talk to me about,” She suggested. She had Quidditch practise soon, and she had promised Dean she would revise with him at four.

Luna wrinkled her nose, and Ginny caught herself thinking she looked quite cute like that, dainty and innocent. She blinked, surprised, looking down at the ground. What? She only looked up when Luna spoke, and pressed a bundle of letters into her lap.

“Ginny,” Luna began, fiddling with the bracelets on her arm. Her voice was uncracked, but at a higher pitch than normal. Ginny raised her eyebrows, curious about what was wrong with her friend, and what the letters were all about. A silence passed then, with a warm breeze coming through that lifted Ginny’s hair off her shoulders, and made her press a hand to the letters to keep them there.

“I’m in love with you,” Luna said, and didn’t look away. No, she met Ginny’s eyes, widened and stunned, with her own, unblinking and truthful. It took Ginny awhile for Luna’s words to truly register, to take it in and actually believe it. Maybe Luna had always been a bit more touchy-feely than what was normal between best friends, maybe she had always said things about Ginny (“You’re so beautiful.”) that differed from how Hermione complimented her (“You look fine, don’t worry!”) but… Surely... _Really_...

“Can I kiss you?” Luna had seemed to move a bit closer, but not up in Ginny’s face either. Blood rushed to Ginny’s cheeks, her body almost frozen. Could Luna kiss her? She didn’t know. She didn’t love Luna, she knew. She loved her as a best friend, a sister, but not as… a lover.

And Luna was a girl. With breasts and wide hips and a certain lack of a bulge in a certain area. With long hair and handmade dresses and charms. Ginny was one too, and she had never thought of herself as the homophobic type - she wasn’t - but surely, it wasn’t right, it was wrong, and Ginny couldn’t -

Suddenly, Luna leaned in and placed her lips onto Ginny’s, cupping her cheek with one hand. Ginny didn’t push her away, and Luna didn’t deepen the kiss. Ginny’s lips parted, and Luna did.

They both closed their eyes as they kissed, gently and softly, and Ginny felt warm inside as it stayed like that. Sweet and in tranquility. Finally, Luna pulled away, and Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but Luna spoke first.

“I’m sorry.” Luna gathered her things quickly, and Ginny just stared at her. Luna looked close to tears - a dreadful thing no one, let alone Ginny, would ever want to see. She glanced at Ginny once, and then quickly left.  
Ginny pressed two fingers to her lips, and wondered what on earth had just happened.

 

 

oOo

 

It was alarming how Draco's love for Potter consumed him, a wildfire burning in the depths of his heart that he couldn't contain.

His love for Potter lead to many things. Misery, walking around with a blank expression in the day and crying into his pillow at night. Anger, throwing hexes at Nott or whoever else that dared to cross him. Pleasure, remembering the way Potter took him and touching himself here and there, head thrown back in the throes of pleasure. Illness, bending over toilets and throwing up anything he had eaten that day.

Because he wasn't good enough for Potter, was he? Too pathetic, too loathsome.

The thoughts that spiralled in his head everyday sent him into this twisted spiral of something which a passerby could call insanity, all because of his love for Potter.

But if he was to be put under Veritaserum, it wasn't all because of that boy with the hero complex and glasses. It was a mass cultivation of things - the war, his father's death, his mother's absence, his future or lack thereof...

It was just easier to blame it all on Potter and his insufferable love for him, was all.

 

oOo

 

Pansy rested her head on Draco’s shoulder, and Draco didn’t push her away for no reason other than he didn’t want to. He had forgotten who his friends were for so long, and as feeble as it made him sound, he needed them. No more than how much he needed Potter, needed him to just fucking apologize for what he had done or come back to him and tell him he loved him, too, or just _touch_ him again - but just as much.

Besides, Pansy’s presence by him was nice, familiar in ways a broken heart and sleepless nights weren’t.

“Come along, Blaise. No one’s going to come along looking for us,” Pansy sighed, and Blaise rolled his eyes, finally sitting down. She held her hand out, and took Blaise’s wand, for reasons Draco and perhaps Blaise didn’t know, but neither of them questioned her.

Pansy stashed the wand in her robes, along with her own, and Draco picked at a shard of grass by them. “I propose we play a game,” Pansy announced, and Draco arched an eyebrow, not turning to them.

“What kind of game, Pansy? There’s three of us. Playing spin the bottle would be rather dull, don’t you think? Taking away the tension and all,” Blaise remarked.

Pansy scowled. “I see your point, but that’s not the game,” she told him. “We’re going to play twenty questions.”

Draco smirked, looking at her and finally joining in.  “Isn’t that the game boys and girls play when they have crushes on each other?”

Pansy ignored him, and continued. “I’ll start.”

 

oOo

 

Half an hour later, and what had been almost a fun, close knit game - turned into little more than a full-blown fight between Draco and Pansy. It had been Blaise’s turn, and he had asked Draco one of his favourite things of the moment, as the questions had became more personal than _which teacher would you go down on if you had to_?

Draco had considered, and slyly told Blaise that one would be their affair. Five minutes later than that, and Pansy exploded.

"You're doing the same thing Potter did to you!" Pansy shrieked, and Draco felt like he had been punched in the stomach. He felt like he wanted to punch her back. "You're using him! Can't you see he's falling in love with you?"

Blaise stood up. "Pansy -"

"No!” she snapped, then turned back on Draco. “You need to fucking stop this," she hissed. "You're becoming a self-absorbed, pathetic little _slut_. I don’t think I would be able to recognise you even if you handed me sixteen pictures of us together."

Draco's eyes filled with angry tears the same time Pansy's did, and before Draco could even open his mouth, she was storming off.

Blaise followed after her, calling her name tiredly. Draco sat rigid.

 

oOo

 

Pansy sat down next to him, yet they still felt far apart as not an inch of their bodies touched. Draco glanced at her. It had been an hour since she had gone off, and the skies were beginning to darken. There was no smudges of mascara beneath her eyes, but he knew she had been crying, for her cheeks were crimson and her under-eye concealer had disappeared.

“Pansy -” She cut him off.

“I’m in love with you.”

Draco froze. It felt as if he had been shot in the head - he could barely think, let alone move. But then he could, and it all came crashing down, as thoughts raced in his head and a lump built in his throat. He knew what it felt like to love someone who wouldn’t look at you twice in a crowded room.

“For how long?’ His question came out a whisper, not trusting his voice to be steady. Pansy sniffed.

“Five years.”

“Oh.” And what else could he say in response to such a thing? Pansy had loved him for five years, and he had never even fucking suspected it. He had thought she considered him as someone akin to a brother, not… He took her hand carefully, and she sucked in a breath, blinking as if trying to not shed any tears. Perhaps she was.

“It’s why - Draco, you have no idea how _furious_ it makes me whenever you leave to have sex with Blaise, when you submit yourself to him. You do not understand how utterly devastating it is to have someone you love be so...broken by the person they love,” she muttered. “That’s why I went off on you. I was jealous, perhaps out of line and I’m -”

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” he told her, and she gave him a small smile, squeezing his hand.

“If I had known…” He didn’t finish his sentence, and Pansy snorted.

“Nothing would have changed, and nothing will now. You’re as straight as a circle,” she remarked, and Draco found himself agreeing, to his own dismay and shame of himself.

“I wouldn’t have told you about Potter, and I wouldn’t have let you find out about Blaise,” Draco input, and Pansy simply shrugged.

“Still hurts that I can’t have you.”

“I’m so sorry.” Pansy didn’t stop him from saying it as he had to her, and he felt the weight of her eyes on his face.

“Kiss me, then,” she murmured, and Draco’s eyes widened.

“Pansy, I don’t -”

She slid her hand out of his, and cupped his cheeks instead. “Please. Just one kiss. That’s all I want from you,” Pansy insisted, and Draco gulped.

Then she kissed him, and it was unfamiliar territory. It was different from kissing a boy, so very different. Her breasts pressed against him where there should only be Harr - someone’s hands touching him. Her lips were soft, too soft, and even as the kiss felt nice, warm and wet and gentle - he knew it would never do anything for him. Kissing her felt wrong, like kissing a sister.

They pulled back from each other after only so many seconds, making eye contact. Pansy licked her lips, and Draco wiped his with his sleeve. He cast his eyes away. “I could never love a girl,” he said finally, and Pansy gave a sound that resembled a sigh, before he continued speaking. “I don’t think I could ever love anyone other than Potter, even.” It was the first time he had spoken such a thing, that Potter was truly the love of his life.

Pansy nodded, and the second she did, Draco opened his arms and Pansy responded, ducking her head into his neck as she looped her arms around him. “I love you,” she said again, but in a mumble, and Draco shut his eyes.

“I’ll always be your best friend, you know,” he vowed. “Even if you do love me.” He hesitated, then gave his final two cents. “That’s the difference between Potter and I,” he sighed with something of a smirk upon his lips. “I’ve done many bad things, but I wouldn’t leave someone who fell in love with me.”

Another half an hour later, and she had gone. Draco felt ill.

 

 

oOo

 

“Draco.”

Draco looked up to see Blaise looking down at him, wearing a solemn expression. He averted his eyes, too tired and drained to give anymore than he had already given in the past hour. Blaise sighed and kneeled down in front of him, and Draco didn't move an inch.

“I never loved you, and I’m never going to, Draco.” Blaise said gently, suddenly, and Draco felt his stomach knot as their eyes met. “Not in that way. Pansy’s accusation - Pansy’s in love with you.”

“I know.” They were both silent for a moment, with Blaise forming a reply, and Draco waiting on it.

“And you’re in love with Harry Potter, aren’t you?” Draco released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, and nodded. “Regardless, she loves you, so she’s jealous of Potter and I. She’s paranoid, been drawing lines where they are no dots.” A smirk tugged at the corner of Blaise’s lips, but Draco knew it was more sympathetic than anything. “And you love Potter, and he hurt you. You don’t want to be like him...But you’re forgetting I’m nothing like you. If I knew I was falling for you...I would end this.”

Draco didn’t say anything at all. He blamed Potter with passion, enough to make tears stream down his cheeks and his fists clench, but how could he not reserve some of the blame for himself? It wasn’t as if Potter had taken him by force, as if he had held him to anything but lust and desire and carnal longing. He was just as woefully weak as Blaise thought him to be, ever pathetic and desperate, and it had ended up being Potter who did the honour of stopping their affair.

“We should end our deal, anyway.” Draco raised his eyebrows, stricken. “Don’t look at me like that. I enjoyed it, but it’s never going to solve anything,” Blaise told him carefully. “The way Pansy freaked out - it’s not our fault, but it wouldn’t have happened if we weren’t doing this.”

Draco nodded.

Pause.

“And Draco?”

Pause.

“Find him. Find Potter, if you love him.”

Pause.

Draco leant forward and kissed him, a chaste, sweet kiss, before he swung his hand and smacked him across his stupid, ignorant face.

Pause.

Blaise winced, eyes on him, as Draco rested his face in his hands, breathing heavily.

Pause.

“Find him.”

Pause.

Draco stayed where he was.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALSO, I think another reason I didn't update for two months (TWO MONTHS!!) was because I didn't get very many reviews straight away. It's so very disheartening when an aspiring writer gets only about one or two reviews on their work. Even if it's just a few words... It really inspires me, it motivates me and makes me smile and makes me proud of myself for once. So, please, PLEASE, review?
> 
> Yay.
> 
> Additionally, after Fall Back is finished, I will be working on another multi-chapter fic ^-^ It will feature trans!Draco oh yes, and if you want to see my writing with him as that you can have a little peek here - http://accio-malfoy.tumblr.com/post/131104362676/because-goldentruth813-told-me-shed-steal-my
> 
> Oh, in case you forget, please review! Constructive criticism is also nice, as long as you're not mean about it ;o Many of you guys may not know this, and may even stop reading this story after you read this next bit, but I'm actually quite young. Older than 13... But younger than 17. My point is, I'm still learning and may still make mistakes! 
> 
> Anygays, this is the most I've ever spoken. Do you like the side pairing of Lunny, and a bit of Draise and Romione in there? Do you think Harry is an utter douchebag? Do you think Draco's too emotional, and too obsessed for his own good? Telll meeeeeeee x


	5. What happens at the end of this

HI

So because I wanted to give everyone and myself closure, here is what I envisioned for the story before I decided to just leave it...

 

**\- SPOILERS -**

ROMIONE - Hermione gets pregnant, but her and Ron are having a lot of troubles so once the year comes to a close they call it quits and decide to raise the baby together but stay friends.

GINNY X LUNA - Ginny comes to terms with her sexuality and they get together, but in the epilogue they're keeping it under wraps because Ginny's afraid of what people will think.

PANSY - Pansy's perf and happy don't worry guys

DRARRY - Hermione tracks down Draco and demands he gives Harry his magic back. Draco agrees, but when Harry arrives, tells him he has one condition - they sleep together one last time. Harry reluctantly agrees, and things happen and it comes close to Harry bottoming for the first time ever but Harry is like nope nope nopity nope and backs out. Draco does the reverse spell anyway - but since actions have consequences and all, the ends up losing his own magic (for good) and his flesh is kinda just torn apart until Professor Badass McGonagall comes along and stops it until things get too bloody. Harry realises that he really does have feelings so obviously he has to go and have sex with some plot device (Seamus?) and word catches and Draco finds out and just kinda :( At everyone's urging, Harry eventually goes and visits Draco for the first time, and is all ready to apoligise and stuff, but when he comes in and Draco's sleeping and still really weak he feels anger boiling up inside of him at the injustice of it all, given that from his side it wasn't exactly easy both dealing with fearing disappointing the only people who truly care about you, and sleeping with the guy - note, guy, when you thought you were completely straight - who bullied you for years. So he ends up just lashing out at Draco, until Draco wakes up and they both just kinda argue for ages to get all their feelings out until Harry just kinda takes initiate and snogs the hell out of Draco.

Onto the epilogue, their relationship is still kinda dysfunctional and they fight like 24/7, but they love each other so lol who cares

Also, there are more flashbacks about how their whole fuckbuddy relationship started, and the last flashback is the end of their first time, where Harry is just really inexperienced and not really caring about Draco so hurts him and Draco is all humiliated etc.

**\- END OF SPOILERS -**

That's all thanks bye I'm gonna go now

 

**Author's Note:**

> New chapter update once a month. Please comment, leave kudos, or what do you.


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